<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Badger Thoughts by Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397290">Badger Thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname/pseuds/Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname'>Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Panic! at the Disco, brendon urie - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Decisions, Bad Flirting, Bottom Brendon Urie, Choking, Coming Out, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Scent Kink, Sexuality, Top Brendon Urie, au - different band, emotional rollercoaster - fair warning, trigger warning: mention of suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:28:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname/pseuds/Alex_Rose_whydidyoustealmyname</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Conner have been friends for almost 20 years. Brendon is 21, Conner is 22. The band has been going great, but Brendon does something that changes everything. Longer fic, chapters coming as i write them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brendon Urie/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What?” Brendon says, looking across at me. I realized i was staring in his general direction, spaced out, thinking about a badger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was i thinking about a badger? I have no idea. I stared at him, thinking of what to say, deciding not to tell him it was about a badger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing…. I was just kinda spaced out. Didn't sleep well.” None of that was a lie. I didn't sleep much last night. I kept thinking. I dont remember exactly the thoughts, but i remember the subject.  But I’m not telling him. Not yet. And no it wasn't a badger. Just… thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mkay. Sure.” He says, smiling and laughing softly. He leans forward to pick up the stress ball he had been toying with, his neck and shoulders stretching out and showing off all of the gorgeous muscles hidden there, the skin sliding smoothly as he shifts back into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle walks in, looking back and forth between us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys ready? We’re almost there. We have about 20 minutes,” He says an walks out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit already? I gotta fix my hair” Brendon says, laughing an jumping up, striding to the tour bus bathroom to comb through his hair for the twelfth time today. I wish i was joking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle, our tour manager, has always been pretty strict. He’s only five years older than Brendon (four years older than me). But he's the oldest, and usually the most mature, so he sets the rules. I somewhat stick to them. Brendon, on the other hand, hears a rule and runs, pissing into the wind. I swear he has no common sense sometimes….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon and i were friends long before the band. It was always Brendon and Conner. Then we became “Magic Blackout”. I came up with the name, and Brendon didn't like it for a while. As people started to get interested in the band, it grew on him. We write the songs together, then he comes up with a melody. I play drums, sometimes bass if needed, he sings and plays guitar. He's great at multitasking. In songs, in life, etc.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon comes out of the bathroom, his hair pristine and combed to perfection. He flashes a smile at me, which i dont think i will ever get used to. His teeth are so straight and shiny like he’s in a freaking toothpaste commercial 24/7. I smile back instinctually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna get ready conner? No offense or anything but you're wearing sweatpants and you look like you woke up stuck to the bottom of the bus.” He says, and my smile turns to a scowl, and i roll my eyes. He laughs and saunters over, ruffling my scruffy brown hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh get off, I’m gonna get up,” I say, pushing him out of the way. He grabs my arm, pulling it behind me, and we end up wrestling. I flip under his arm, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swings his leg back, dead legging me, and i drop to the ground. I catch myself with both hands, having let go of Brendon. He sits on my back with both knees and pulls one hand behind my back. He uses his elbow to push my head into the carpet, just enough to show that I’ve lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tap out! Tap out!” i yell, my hand slamming down on the ground not enough of a signal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it,” he says, and I wrack my brain. He wants me to say he won.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take the awkward route.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok... " I pause for dramatic effect. "Harder daddy,” I say, and he freezes. He sighs and I take the moment of weakness to flip myself, pulling Brendon under me, pinning both his arms down and pressing my knees into his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck you,” Brendon says, laughing under his breath. “You win. Let me up.” He says. I push off, standing up, and he grunts when my knee lands in the middle of his stomach for force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, now </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am going to get ready,” I say, trotting to the bathroom. I fix my hair, combing it into somewhat submission. I walk to my suitcase, pull out a pair of dark jeans and a black v neck t-shirt. I quickly switch pants, taking my shirt off and walking into the “dining room” of the bus while putting on my shirt. It's basically just a part of the bus with a table and a booth. There's enough room on the bus for four people, but we only have two of us. Well, and Kyle but he usually sleeps at a hotel. We dont know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> why, but we have and idea… He's not married and he hasn't truly dated anyone in almost a year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon turns, seeing me, and pauses in the middle of a spoonful of yogurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> yogurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BRENDON!” I yell, throwing the shirt on, and chasing him into a corner and snatching the peanut butter banana yogurt out of his hand. “It's empty!” I pout, tossing the trash into the bin and sitting in the booth with my arms crossed. Brendon walks over, but i refuse to look at him, turning away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, conner I'm sorry. I really wanted yogurt and I knew you wouldn't let me have it.” He says, and i look at him. He does look sorry. Kind of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the last one,” I say, looking down. I'm actually incredibly disappointed by the fact that he ate my yogurt. It's my favorite kind and I can never find it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'll buy you more, con,” He says, leaning down and looking me in my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok…. but I'm still pissed off at you.” He laughs, standing up, and i punch him softly in the stomach. He laughs, moving backward.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Burgers, fries, and A weird look</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“What?” i ask him, and he just shrugs. “Do i have something on my face?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Guys! Lets go!” Kyle calls, and i realize the bus stopped. I run to my bunk, slipping my black converse on as fast as i can, running to catch up with Brendon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I step out of the bus and delicious smells waft to my nose. We’re somewhere in downtown Dallas, at a place called “chop house burger”. There’s a chalkboard sign out front advertising “truffle fries” and chocolate shakes. I look over at Brendon and he looks about ready to sprint in the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We walk in calmly, Brendon managing to quiet his growling stomach. We sit in a booth, a hanging light providing a nice ambiance. A thin, blonde waitress saunters up to our table with a pad and pen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can i get you gentlemen?” she asks, and Brendon, Kyle and i look at each other. “Is this you're first time here?” she asks, and we nod. “I’ll give you a minute, but i recommend the chicken fried steak. For now, ill take your drink orders.” I get a coke, Brendon gets dr pepper, and Kyle gets water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaves, and we pick up the menu. Everything on it looks delicious. I stare blankly at it for a few minutes, and set it down again, thoroughly intimidated by the range of options. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what are you getting?” Kyle asks, and I just laugh under my breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chicken fried steak. And a chocolate milkshake.” Brendon says, smiling when Kyle gives him a disapproving look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too. I literally can’t decide on anything else.” I say, and Kyle just sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Ill make it easy on the lady. Three chicken fried steak meals and three small chocolate shakes.” He says, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Medium,” Brendon says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Small,” Kyle says, firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Large,” Brendon says, smiling when Kyle sighs again and waves his hand in dismissal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Medium it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>We order and get our food a little less than 15 minutes later. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do i start?” I laugh, looking at the intimidating plate of battered steak and seasoned fries. I opt for fries, picking one up an taking a bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah- Hah-... it’s hot!” I say, and Brendon cracks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dumbass!” he says, laughing, and i join in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat your food, guys. We have to be at the Trees concert hall in two hours and we dont even know where it is.” Kyle says, once again taking over as mom of the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I squirt some ketchup on my plate, dipping my fries into it, and wolf them down. They really are worth the $7 they cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I start on the CFS, attempting to cut it with my knife and failing horribly. I glance over at Brendon, to see if he’s having any luck, and catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He looks away slowly, his eyes the last to leave mine as though he doesn’t care if i catch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” i ask him, and he just shrugs. “Do i have something on my face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wipe my mouth instinctively, but there’s nothing on my napkin. Hmm…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We finish our food, Brendon slurping down the shake in less than two minutes, not once getting a brain freeze. I swear sometimes he might be part animal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we get back on the bus, Brendon pushes his way past me and heads to his bunk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imma take a nap. My head kinda hurts.” He says, hopping up to his bunk. He could have picked the bottom, there are four bunks, two tops, and two bottoms, and only one of the bottoms is taken. No, he insisted on the top bunk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aight, sleep well,” Kyle says, climbing in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. I walk to the back, sitting at the table. After a few minutes, i get up and walk over to the bunks. I crawl into mine, the bottom one on the opposite side of Brendon’s, pulling out my phone. I check Instagram and see a pic of Brendon, posted 54 seconds ago. His hair is mussed, he’s shirtless, and he has his tongue sticking out like a rock star. His rose neck tattoo clearly visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I debate saying something but settle for commenting on his post.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking sexy, bro.” with two heart-eye emojis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear the ping of a notification on his phone, and hear him laugh softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up conner,” he says out loud, still laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just telling it how it is, Bren,” I say, and he stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think I'm hot?” He says, confusion filling his voice. I hear his bunk curtain move and slide my own open a little. He has his head poking out, tilted to the side like a confused puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, you’re attractive,” I say, slightly uneasy by the shift in tone. “A lot of people do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that's not what i mean.” He looks directly into my eyes, staring intently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm…. I'm not sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you mean, then,” I say, my eyebrows scrunching. He looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind. Sorry.” He pulls his head back into his bunk, sliding the curtain closed.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I hear him sigh, and nothing more. I refresh the page, but theres nothing new from him. Some people like my comment on his picture or post their own comment nearly similar to mine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About half an hour passes, in complete silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bus stops, making a <em>hisssss</em> sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here!” Kyle says.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Surprise surprise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some unexpected events pre-show.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When  we walked into the building, we were pleasantly surprised with the layout. Kyle always plans stuff for us because we’re basically kids compared to his vast maturity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We got a short-ish tour of the place and told where we could put and set up our stuff. The place really was classy. It had an upper floor and a stage and all kinds of seating area. It was pretty freaking cool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brendon seemed… off though. He didn't really seem to notice the building much. He kinda sulked a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey what’s up bren?” Kyle asked him, slinging an arm around the younger guy's shoulder. “You look bummed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing just tired.” He replied. Maybe he was getting sick?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feelin ok?” i asked, and brendon jumped slightly, apparently not realizing i was walking right behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh… yeah im just tired, like i said.” He looked down and walked quickly to the backstage area. I decided to let him do whatever it was he was doing and went to the tour bus to get my drums and such. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When i came back in, brendon was leaning against the bar, a can of beer in one hand. He was laughing and talking to the bartender, a young, attractive dude named Dan. He was a skinny blonde dude with a little bit of a southern accent. Oh and he was wearing a cowboy hat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey bren you gonna help with this stuff?” I say and he sets the beer down moving to help. He rushes out to the bus, leaving Dan an his beer abandoned at the bar. I walk over and casually pick up brendons drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So youre friend there…” Dan says, leaning against the bar. “He swing both ways?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I spit out the bitter liquid and cough a few times. Wasnt expecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh umm… i dont know. I think he’s straight. Sorry.” I say, and the bartenders smile falters a little before resuming its glow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, its alright. Boys as pretty as that usually are. Thats why i got this job. Lots of nice looking guys come through here, play a few shows, then leave. Im trying to find one thats-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hear the door open and brendon comes back in with a few various boxes of things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about that,” he says, smiling in an apologetic way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Its ok, bren you were enjoying yourself.” i say, taking the last few drops of beer and tossing the can into a trashcan a few feet away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey that was mine!” He says, looking slightly pouty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Was. And it was delicious. Lets go set up.” I say, nodding to dan, standing up and walking backstage, where everything we need for tonights show is strewn. I pick up the high hat and cymbal stand and haphazardly carry them out on stage. Brendon comes behind me with the bass drum, looking like he’s having no trouble with the heavy drum. I already knew brendon was attractive but talking to Dan somehow gave me a little bit of a new view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brendon sets the drum down and stands up, pounding his chest like king kong and saying in a deep voice “Me strongman, you weak!” I laugh and toss a drumstick at him, which he catches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enguard!” He shouts, holding the stick like a sword and jabbing it towards me. I pick up another and do the same, stepping closer to him. He makes the first move, darting to my left and tapping the stick against my shoulder. I cry out in fake pain and let that arm go limp. Its a game we’ve played since we were little. If the “sword” hits you, you’ve lost the appendage it hits. If it hits you in the abdomen, you lose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I jab the stick at him and it hits him in the elbow. He laughs an lets it drop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I dart around him and hit his other arm. He lets that one go limp too, putting the stick in his mouth before he does so. He darts at me in a kamikaze attempt to hit me in the stomach and ends up hitting me square in the chest, knocking me down. I lay there, momentarily winded as he gets off of me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow fuck bren” i laugh, as he hits me with the stick in the middle of my stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got you.” he says. Always has to win, this guy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Conner! Bren! We have a show in an hour what the hell are you doing!?!” kyle says, staring at me laying on the ground with a drumstick and brendon kneeling over me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were just messing around dude, chill.” brendon says, standing up an helping me as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I cant chill because guess what i just found out?” He says, and at our silence, continues. “You know that singer that you guys love so much? Dallon Weekes? Yeah he’s gonna be at you're show tonight. He heard about you guys and was in the area so he’s coming to tonight's show. This is a big deal. He has a record label and money and if we impress him we could get signed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both brendon and i stare, eyes wide at kyle. He’s right, but that means that we have an hour to prepare the best damn show we can make. This is gonna be stressful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We spent 5 minutes setting up, 40 minutes running through our setlist an practicing, an around 10 minutes getting ready. While i was combing my hair back, i heard people start to show up for the show. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Conner you ready?” Brendon calls quietly, right outside the door. He’s trying to save his voice by making it as quiet as he can while still being audible. I open it to see him wearing eyeliner, something he only does on special occasions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As ill ever be.” I say, my voice shaking slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be fine. Even if he doesnt sign us he still came to see us.” brendon says, reading my mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” i relax a little, my shoulders dropping a few inches from how tense i was without realizing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, were on in 5.” kyle calls.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sorry for the hiatus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I Will be updating this soon (within the next week)</p><p>Thank you for being patient as I've had personal issues that needed tending to before i could return here ❤</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I Will add at least two chapters before next Thursday! Thank you all for being as patient as you were. ❤</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Showtime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The show begins</p><p> </p><p>Tw: mention of suicide</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again I'm sorry for the long wait there were issues but i think they've been fully worked out ❤<br/>Lmk what you think of it so far! I'll be posting somewhat regularly, hopefully every week.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>We make the finishing touches to our look, checking in the mirror individually before we look at each other and step to the stage. The medium sized crowd roars louder than I anticipated and it boosts my confidence. I smile, taking my seat behind the drums. I scan the crowd in my peripheral and there he is. Dallon Fucking Weekes. I sigh, shaking my head slightly as Brendon does a tiny casual intro and nods to me, signaling that he’s ready to start the first song, “Rosebud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We tear through  our setlist almost non-stop until the last song. Brendon and i wrote this one a few weeks ago after his cousin, Jake commited suicide. They were close as kids but had grown apart, but it still killed brendon.. They found that Jake had called Brendon just before he died, but no one answered. The song is called “Leave a Message or a Goodbye Note” and its about a guy whose life changed because he missed a phone call from his distressed friend, who later…. You know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He introduces the song, telling them about Jake and saying that, no matter how bad it gets, theres always something worth staying for. Something worth putting yourself back together for. He looks down, being theatrical while also hiding the single tear that drags its way down his face as the piano notes and guitar chords begin to play. I come in on my cue, tapping lightly on the ride cymbal and listening as Brendon starts to sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The phone rang, and i wonder how many times it did</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you hung up, gave up hope, and let all the feelings </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slip away. Wish there was something</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a note, or a message to let me know</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That it’s not my fault…” He continues the somber song, his voice breaking a few times as the tears start to flow. I knew Jake, but not as well as Brendon had. I see most of the crowd holding up their phone lights and waving them and I smile, thinking of a time when brendon said that he thought it was dumb when people did that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song ends and everyone cheers, loud. I look at Brendon and he's crying and smiling, and I get up and sling an arm around his shoulders as he says goodnight to everyone and we walk backstage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn that was…. Wow.” I say, and Brendon nods, wiping sweat from his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey uh, guys?” We both turn but already know the voice. Dallon weekes, standing less than 10 feet from us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh um” Brendon stutters, standing upright and looking slightly more respectful than before. “Hi. I'm Brendon Urie and this is Conner Melnik. Did you uh… did you like the show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I did. It was really good and i think that you guys could be huge someday.” He steps forward and side hugs Brendon, then me. He nods, waving as he walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We look at each other, quiet for a few minutes. We hear the jingle of the door front opening and closing, and Brendon sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didnt sign us.” Is all he says before he walks out of the building.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. What I Like</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brendon goes missing after the show.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>15 missed calls. 23 texts.</p><p> </p><p>He wont answer his phone and I'm getting worried as hell. I broke down the set by myself, but now theres nothing for me to do. I havent heard anything since he left earlier after the show at 10pm and it’s almost two am. I'm pacing the middle of the room, running my hand through my hair over and over and calling him every twenty minutes, but he hasn't answered.<br/>Where the fuck is he?</p><p> </p><p>I call Kyle again and he tells me that I need to calm down, that he’ll be back any minute. He says I'm being slightly irrational with what Brendon's track record shows. He almost missed a show once because he went out for a bite and his phone died.</p><p> </p><p>Then the door opens and there he is.</p><p>“Holy shit Bren! Where the hell have you been?!?” He sees me and beelines towards me, smiling like an idiot.</p><p>“I was… out.” He says, and slings his arm around my shoulders. His breath doesnt smell like beer, or any alcohol for that matter. Thats a really good thing.</p><p>“Ok, and are you better now?” I say and he nods. He keeps staring at my face too long and I'm not sure what to make of it. Then he leans forward and kisses me.</p><p>I freeze, not sure what to do. I mean, yeah, Brendon's attractive but am I into him? Am I into any guy? He pulls back and his face looks disappointed. His lip is pouted out in that way that he does when Kyle tells him he cant do something. He always does it anyways, though.</p><p>“Con?” Is all he says.</p><p>“Just…. Give me a minute.” I tell him. I need to sort some shit out real quick. He couldnt have let me have some damn time? I mean theres a good looking gay bartender over there why couldnt he have kissed him?<br/>Oh thats right he likes me.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“Did i just fuck everything up?” He says, and his voice sounds so sad and sweet and… I dont know.</p><p>“No, you didnt. I might.” I say, pressing my lips to his and kissing him softly. He returns the kiss, slowly.</p><p>Let me tell you this, kissing a guy is a lot different from kissing a girl. Dont ask me to explain it but theres something drastically different from a guy and a girl. At least with brendon there is.</p><p>He pulls back, just a little, enough to say “Con?” again, this time breathless and sweet. I open my eyes and he’s looking into mine and our foreheads are touching and how the hell did it get to this?</p><p>“Yes, brendon?” I say and he smiles wider, closing his eyes. </p><p>“When i was asking you that question earlier… this is what i was asking. Well, kind of. I was asking if you liked me as more than a friend. More than a bandmate.” He says and leans back. He scans my face for something and when he doesnt find it, his eyebrows scrunch.</p><p>“Well…” What the hell do I say to that? I have so many things running through my head. This could end the band. </p><p>I mean even if i do like him like that, we cant date. That would literally end the fucking band. Its logic. Unless…..<br/>I'm an idiot. Fuck me. </p><p>“I…. I dont know, brendon.” I end up saying. “I literally just realized i might be gay or bi or something like that and now i have to figure out if im in love with my best friend, too? I definitely think you're attractive, a lot of people do. Take the country boy behind the counter over there. He asked me earlier if youre gay. Apparently he’s pretty into you.”</p><p>“R-.... really?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at the empty bar. Dan went home about an hour and a half ago, so the bar is empty. When he looks back at me theres something in Brendon's eyes that tells me its a good thing we’re playing here two more days, I guess. <br/>A pang of something (maybe jealousy?) flashes in my head. I quickly shake it away.</p><p>“Yes and my point is that you are very attractive but i dont know exactly what I'm into. The kissing was nice but I'm just... I'm not sure if it's what i want. When I figure it out you’ll be the first to know, though ok?” I say, and his smile falters but comes back, slightly saddened.</p><p>“Ok. I think I'm going to go to bed now.” he says. I smile at him and he turns to walk to the bus. </p><p>“Hey brendon?” i say, and he stops and turns back to me. “Goodnight.”</p><p>He waves and walks out the door to the bus, and I turned and sat on the edge of the stage.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Simon James</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The badger thoughts return, among a swirl of other emotions and thoughts. Because the human brain is a funny thing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I sat there, on the edge of the stage, for two more hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the fuck do i do?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every possible answer swept through my head. Some I dismissed entirely, some I just sat and wondered about. Eventually my legs started to fall asleep, so i got up and started to walk back to the bus. When I made my way into the bus, I could hear snoring, but it was so fake I smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walked to Brendon’s bunk and pulled the curtain back a couple inches and revealed his face, cringing in the light. He smiled sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cant sleep?” I ask and he nods. “Wanna watch a movie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls out of his bunk doing some maneuver and landing on his feet. I walk to the “living room” of the bus while brendon flops down on the couch and I grab the small stack of movies from next to the small tv. I hold them up one by one until Brendon nods and says “that one”. I look at the cover. He picked Aladdin, of all movies. I put it in and turn on the tv, sitting down on the other side of the couch from brendon. He looks over at me and then leans over on the couch a little, then just kind of falls over, laying down on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We sit like that for a while, and I hear Brendon sigh just as Jasmine is talking to her tiger about something. I look over at him and he rolls over onto his stomach, his arm sliding and hanging off the couch. He looks at me a little, out of the corner of his eye and sighs again. I laugh softly and pat his shoulder and he wiggles until his head is kind of in my lap. I freeze, and he tenses up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I rest my arm on his shoulder, smiling softly, and he slowly eases up. He eventually focuses back on the movie, and I feel his breathing even out. I hear him snore softly and trace small circles back and forth from his shoulder to his elbow, the movement calming to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smile. He’s actually really sweet. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> good looking. He has a nice face, he’s fit, he has a sharp jawline and his neck… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevermind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We’ve been friends since we were literally 5 years old. Of course we’re potentially falling in love. Its every great love story. Well, romeo and juliet didnt end well. But they weren't friends first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now I'm off track and goddammit that badger is back in my head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I'm gonna name it Simon. Simon James. Just because I want to. Brendon shifts on my lap and his hand rests on my knee softly. He's laying on his stomach fully now, his face turned towards the tv as he snores quietly. Oh if Kyle could see us now. I start to play with his hair and Bren smiles in his sleep. His hair is soft, despite all the shit he puts in it every day, and it always looks so perfect. He always looks so perfect. Even now, passed out on my lap, his face is smooth and soft and he just looks perfect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole thing just seems impossible. I have a chance to be with this perfect person but i dont know if its even a choice for me. Do I even actually like him like that or is it just the fact that we’re single and he's definitely attractive? Are whatever feelings I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More chapters coming soon.</p>
<p>This fic is gonna mess me up while I'm writing it. I can feel it.</p>
<p>Anyways, comment ideas if you have them and ill try to add them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>